


The Weight Of Your Hands

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern Era, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:59:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: Five times Shiro comes to hold Allura's hands in his.-My secret Shallura Valentine's Day present foryliseryn





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a secret Valentine's Day gift for [Louise (@yliseryn on tumblr)](http://yliseryn.tumblr.com/) ❤ ^^

The first time it happened, it was completely unintentional. He was a university student working as a barista, and while his job did have him interacting with customers a lot, it usually never went past a small smile and a casual greeting.

Of course, it was different for _her._

Allura was a college student at his university, too. The most beautiful girl there. He’d fallen for her the moment he’d first laid his eyes on her, had felt something in him stutter at the mere sight of her sweet smile and bright eyes. He’d never reacted to anyone like that, but she was… she was different. 

It had happened when she came in for her usual iced coffee, like she did every Tuesday afternoon at exactly five o’clock. She always ordered the same thing, and Shiro liked to think that she lingered at the back of the line to wait until he was free to serve her, because he somehow always ended up taking her order. Perhaps she thought he made the drink the best, but perhaps not. 

When he’d handed her the drink, it had slipped through his fingers. Sometimes he still struggled with his prosthetic arm, despite having it for more than two years now, because he couldn’t feel what his fingers were gripping. When a cup had too much condensation on it, like they often did with chilled drinks, he always used his left hand, the real one. But with Allura, his mind twisted itself into embarrassed knots, and he’d used his right hand without thinking. 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he said, as he rushed to steady the cup.

“No, it’s alright-” Allura said, as she did the same.

He’d ended up half bent over the counter, with its edge digging painfully into his stomach. His prosthetic hand was still around the cup, but his other had trapped Allura’s against it. Her skin was chilled from the cold air outside, but it warmed quickly. Her fingers were slender, and despite her small hands, Shiro was distinctly surprised by how strong they felt.

“Sorry,” he said again, as he nervously met her eyes. Her face was only inches from his, so close he could see his refection in her eyes, could feel her breath on his skin. It was like she was radiating pure warmth.

She smiled, a shy little curl of her lips. She hadn’t drawn her hand away yet. “It’s really alright.”

 

The second time it happened, it was somewhat more intentional. As it turned out, they had a friend in common – of sorts. Shiro’s best friend, Matt, had a sibling only two years his junior with a brain far older than their body. Pidge was someone Shiro had known for years, and while he was closer to Matt, he still liked to believe he was close to Pidge, too.

That was why he had been as surprised as he was when he found out Pidge and Allura were close. Apparently they got along well at university, and even shared a class with each other. Shiro suddenly felt like he might be able to get to know her more.

He liked doing things for her, when he could. Like holding the door open, or asking about her day, or holding her books for her. That last one was his favourite. She’d always seem surprised when he’d pick them up for her, and the smile she gave him was always warm and thankful. 

That’s what he was doing when it happened a second time. It was icy outside, with winter still roaring, and she’d had her hands full with her second jumper and her iced coffee. He was on the way to their university as well, so he hadn’t thought twice about picking up her textbooks for her. They were quite heavy, and would have been troublesome for her to hold along with her other possessions.

“You always get iced coffee, even when it’s snowing outside,” Shiro observed, as they walked together. He’d made the coffee she held in her hand, too. Fortunately, their university was quite close to the café, so walking didn’t pose too much of a problem. Only in winter did it become somewhat more difficult, when the ground sometimes froze over and became slippery.

“It tastes really good,” Allura said, smiling widely. She had a beanie tucked over her head today, and a scarf thrown loosely around her neck. He wondered how all of her hair didn’t get caught up in either. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, smiling too. 

Allura opened her mouth to say something, but her foot suddenly slipped out from under her, and she started toppling backwards. Shiro lunged forwards before he really realised what he was doing, grabbing her by the hand not holding the coffee to steady her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern thick in his voice as he unconsciously drew her hand towards his chest, like she could possibly feel how hard his heart was racing. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Flustered, she shook her head. Once more, she made no move to pull her hand out of his grip, not even when her eyes flickered down to where they were joined. “I’m alright,” she finally said, sounding oddly breathless. “You caught me.”

In hindsight, Shiro found that funny, because he was most certainly the one falling for her.

 

The next time was mostly intentional. When it came down to it, Shiro knew that he had Pidge to thank. It was odd, but it had been the young engineer’s doing. 

See, Shiro was pretty sure that Pidge was sick of them. It wasn’t anything bad between him and Allura, of course not, but there certainly was… tension. Something warm and hard to word.

Shiro had just found it very hard to believe that someone as smart and beautiful as Allura could ever want to be with him. Not only was he damaged, and missing a part, but his prosthetic was clearly unnatural, and to others what he’d lost was obvious. He still struggled with it sometimes, still hated it so much he wanted to do nothing more than rip it off. 

But he was stuck with it, scars and all. He didn’t blame the people who stared on the streets or the people who shook his natural hand, even though it wasn’t the one people normally shook, instead of the prosthetic. If he could still barely fathom that he’d lost his dominant arm, then he didn’t expect others to accept it straightaway, either.

Allura, like usual, always surprised him. When they were in each other’s company she never stared, and never hesitated when handing him something. At times when it was late at night and he was restlessly thinking, he always imagined that maybe she didn’t see it as something foreign attached to him.

Perhaps he’d imagined right.

Either way, he thought that the extent of his admiration for her was obvious. He wasn’t exactly good at hiding his crush, especially not with the way she made him so flustered and smiley. She had an effect on him that no one else had ever had.

It was easy to see how Pidge could eventually become fed up with the little dance they were playing. Pidge wasn’t exactly a romantic at heart, so Shiro didn’t exactly blame him for getting sick of all the (what he hoped was) flirting. 

“You know, I’m just going to head off,” Pidge had finally said, as he’d gathered his things to put in his bag. “Honestly, if you two wanted to go on a date, you should have just said so.”

Shiro spluttered, embarrassed, but he found that he had little to say to that. He hadn’t intended for their meet up to be a date, and he certainly hadn’t intended to make Pidge any sort of uncomfortable, even if Pidge was more teasing than anything else. 

Allura seemed just as embarrassed. “Pidge, I–”

“Honestly, you two have needed to date for ages anyway,” Pidge continued, as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Have fun.”

Shiro and Allura glanced at each other shyly after Pidge left. It was different with just the two of them there, and being alone with Allura made his heart race. Realising that Pidge had pretty much confessed his feelings for him, Shiro cleared his throat. “Do you want to go get coffee?”

Allura smiled at him, brighter than the sun, and nodded. 

They walked together towards the café from the university, like they often had recently, but this time Shiro made sure to walk on Allura’s right side. That way every time their hands brushed together he could feel it, and when Allura tentatively tangled their fingers together, the warmth of her palm sunk into him.

 

The fourth time was intentional too, but unexpected, and more on Allura’s behalf. They’d been together for a while, in a sort of state where nothing was official but they certainly weren’t available for others. Shiro didn’t mind that their relationship had yet to be defined, because they both still had things they needed to work through, and having the comfort of knowing that he had someone there for him was more than he could ask for.

With their studies increasing in intensity, many of the times they met up specifically to share each other’s company were speckled with study. The university’s library became a common place one could find them, bent over a table laden with papers, side-by-side. Somehow, doing something as mundane as studying or research with Allura became interesting, and intriguing. Her presence alone was always enough to cheer him up.

That day, it stormed. Winter storms certainly weren’t as common as summer ones, but when they came about, it was always with a loud announcement of snow and icy wind. They’d taken refuge in the library in the morning, when no storm had been predicted, but as the day carried on, it became evident that they would be unable to leave until it passed.

Snow battered the windows and turned the world outside in a blank sheet of white. Wind howled, and against the silence of the library, it was deafening. The blizzard interfered with phone and radio signals, turning everything into white noise punctuated by bursts of static voices, so technology was quickly discarded in its uselessness. When the lights flickered before shutting off with an echoing click, the inhabitants of the library were thrust into darkness.

The library workers came around to explain that the backup generators would turn on within half an hour, and that the library was completely safe from the storm, but their reassurances didn’t change the fact that everyone was on edge. Shiro and Allura had secluded themselves in a tucked away corner of the library, where the windows were wide and the bookshelves were tall. When the windows rattled ominously, they moved further into the racks of books, where a burst window wouldn’t reach them if it happened to shatter.

Shiro wasn’t particularly frightened of storms. He’d weathered them in fighter planes, miles and miles above the Earth’s surface, and the destructive beauty of storms never quite inspired fear in him anymore. Allura, on the other hand, sat shivering and flinching every time the noise rose above the average threshold.

“When do you think the lights will come back up?” She whispered, as she rubbed her hands together to bring warmth back into them. “They’ve been off for ages now.”

Truly, Shiro didn’t know, but it couldn’t be much longer that they were left in darkness. “Soon, probably,” he said, as he shuffled closer to her. They were sitting on the floor, leaning against the shelves that didn’t budge against their weight. “Are you scared?”

Her flinch at the sudden rattle of the windows was enough of an answer for him. He hated seeing her so apprehensive, and for a moment, he felt like he was at a loss for what to do. But he’d always been the type of person to protect others – it had been why he’d done so well in the Garrison, before the accident – so he did whatever came naturally. 

“You don’t need to be scared,” he whispered, as he shuffled around to her other side, so that his shoulders eclipsed her view of the windows and that he was between the storm and her. He put his arm over her shoulders, his human one, and hoped it would bring her some warmth until the electricity came back on and the heaters started up again. “I’m right here.”

The relieved look she gave him felt like a blast of snow against his face. She hesitated for only a moment before turning into him, accepting his offer of comfort. Her hair tickled his nose when she rested her ear against his chest, tucked right under his chin. When she reached both hands for his prosthetic one, he let her take it.

“It might be cold,” he warned in a small voice, because he was still uncertain about letting anyone, even her, be close to such a vulnerable part of him.

But she didn’t seem to care. She held his prosthetic fingers between her hands like it was delicate, and kept her grip tight. “Then I’ll warm it,” she said, as she held it against her chest and closed her eyes. 

His heart was pounding. He wondered if she could hear it beneath her ear; wondered if the racing sound of it was what made her press a small, subconscious smile against his chest.

 

The fifth time blended into the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth, and the hundredth. He was sure he was holding onto her hands when he first kissed her, and when she first kissed him, and when they danced together. He hardly ever wanted to let go.

There was just something about her hands that grounded him. They were strong hands, hands that could do anything she wanted, and yet they were delicate, and soft. She had beautiful hands, even though to others they might have seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. He knew better.

When he woke up from the clawing grip of a nightmare in which he was falling from the sky in a plume of ash and flames, it was those hands that brought him out of it, those hands that pressed into his hair and against his chest. When they shared a quiet moment, just the two of them, it was those hands that caressed his face, and kept his fingers warm. When he hated his arm more than anything, went through a phase where it was alien and wrong and ugly, it was those hands that made him feel human again.

And when they walked, even if their destination was nowhere in particular, it was those hands that sought his out, that looked to him for steady reassurance and silent comfort. 

More than anything, that was something he was willing to give her.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day ❤
> 
> -
> 
> [my tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my twitter](https://twitter.com/fairydens)


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